


Merry Justinmas!

by catmanu



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - Canadian 21st c., Political RPF - France 21st c.
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Macdeau, laïcité mention, seriously here be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28318830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: With Manu quarantined, Justin is extra-determined to celebrate Christmas with him, no matter how far apart they are.Here be some serious, quickly-written Christmas fluff!
Relationships: Emmanuel Macron/Justin Trudeau
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Merry Justinmas!

**Author's Note:**

> After writing Trophy Boyfriend, I thought I had said everything I needed to say about these two. But really, they are my favorites to write, and I couldn't stay away, filled with Justin's Birthday Madness as I was.

“You’re not spending Christmas with anyone?” Justin gasped. His voice went so dramatically high it almost cracked like he was fourteen years old again in suspenders and thick glasses trying to ask a girl out. As if any high school dream could even have conceived of Manu.

“No. It wouldn’t be responsible, considering the circumstances.”

“Can’t your family come hang out with you outside somewhere? I bet Némo would like that.”

“It’s a bit too cold for that, I fear.”

“Okay, how about indoors but with masks on? Manu, I care about—”

“Still, I'm not sure how prudent that is. At the risk of sounding like one of those people who thinks Bill Gates is spreading covid through the 5G network...The science around masks and transmission is still a little nebulous.”

“True. And I suppose talking with a mask on would restrict your guests’ _freedom of expression._ ”

Manu sighed. “Justin, I’ve asked this before. But are you about to turn forty-nine, or nineteen?”

“Not sure. You’re the big brain here, Manu. Why don’t you tell me?”

Justin heard some paper shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Hmmm. Odd...I don’t see _mon cher Justin’s unexpected resentment_ on my Christmas list.”

God, 2020 really was just the biggest dumpster fire of a year, Justin thought. The vibe between him and Manu had just been...off. And he wanted to make it right.

“What is on your Christmas list, sweet kitten? If your uh...laici- _laïcité_ even lets you make one.”

“For you to have a wonderful birthday, and to have a happy Christmas with your beautiful family.”

“What’s that, the NATO summit answer? It’s so dispassionate, Manu. I want something with heart.”

“That’s enough, Justin. It is what I want.”

*

Justin thought.The poor guy must be suffering. He had to spend his birthday and Christmas quarantined. And no matter what he said about how all he needed were books and Ye Olde Ancient Typewriter to work on a novel (which Justin, in his not-so-subconscious subconscious, often hoped would feature a 6’2” Canadian love interest), Justin knew his Manu. He knew he needed love and snuggles just as much as the next guy. If not more. He'd gone through so much this year. Of course, some of it was his own doing, but Justin could relate to that, couldn’t he? He needed love. He talked to Sophie, who in her infinite praticality had an idea. One day, Justin would find out how much she knew. One day...

*

December 24th. Justin’s Birthday Eve. The kids were asleep, or at least, in bed—teens, did they ever sleep?— and the cheesy Christmas music finally turned off. Justin wore a bright red thermal shirt—conveniently very tight, and he’d made sure to keep up a gym routine during Covid—and new pajama pants with festive penguins on them. And of course, fluffy red slipper socks. His ingredients were all set up on the Rideau Cottage countertop. The _mise en place_ , if you will.

He propped his laptop on a stack of cookbooks and FaceTimed the man who he still loved so desperately. In sickness and in health. Through the best of times, and also these times.

“Justin? Justin?” Manu rubbed his sleepy-looking eyes. “What...excuse my profanity...but what the fuck are you doing up so late? It’s...5:30 am here.”

“Merry Christmas, Manu,” Justin said, beaming so brightly his face hurt. “Are you ready to make some Christmas cookies?”

Manu looked like he was about to say something but then he stopped. Paused. His beautiful blue eyes blinked a time or two.

“You know what, mon cher Justin? Yes. Yes, I am ready to make some Christmas cookies with you.”

Justin felt his heartbeat speed up to heart-attack-levels. Forty-nine going on nineteen? Absolutely. Manu kept him young. And wasn’t that a beautiful thing?

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.” He dug around his beautiful _mise en place._ “Look. I have maple leaf cookie cutters, for me, and these dog shaped ones for you. They made me think of Némo.”

“I like that,” Manu said. He shifted, and Justin noticed his blue hoodie. Cozy, casual Manu. The rarest Manu, and one that he loved so much. “But I have one request before we start.”

“Anything for you, sweet kitten.”

“I do love how that shirt looks on you. But would you take it off for me?”

Justin’s hands were peeling it off before Manu was even finished speaking, his face flushing. He and Manu hadn’t had much time for _this_ kind of call, for various reasons. It was long overdue. “Should I take off my pants, too?”

“No. You’re in your kitchen. And it’s far too cold for that.”

*

Tons of flour and eggs and powdered sugar and frosting later, the cookies were in the oven and it was officially Christmas Day—and his 49th birthday—in Canada. Manu had been enthralled by the whole baking process. _Well, well, well, s_ _omething I can do that he can’t, wow._ It felt nice.

“Those cookies must smell delicious,” Manu said. “I could do with a maple leaf for breakfast. One of those, you, both...”

Justin wiped some flour off his face. It was hard to get flour out of a beard, but Manu probably thought he was cute that way. “Merry Christmas, my sweet kitten.”

“Not to provoke our American allies, but I enjoy this very much--keeping the Christ out of Christmas, leaving the Justin in Justinmas.”

“You big fucking dork.”

“Ah. Is that the forty-nine going on nineteen way to say I love you?”

“Yes,” Justin said, blowing a flour-y kiss towards his laptop.

“Well, then allow me to call you a _big fucking dork_ as well.”

Standing near the oven always made Justin extra warm, but now he felt _extra extra_ warm. Even with his shirt off.

“Someday we’ll do this together,” Justin said. “Really together.”

“Hmmm.”

“I mean it,” Justin said. Anything seemed possible right now, anything, with cookies baking in the oven, his birthday and Christmas just beginning, and Manu’s tired but glowing face on his screen. His eyes full of love, and Justin’s eyes, too, full of love...

It was just so very 2020 for the worst year to have the best Christmas. Justinmas. Whatever it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas if you celebrate, and if you don't, I hope you are having a nice and healthy Friday!
> 
> (Did you see that weird little vague hint at Trophy Boyfriend near the end? Be careful what you wish for, Justin!)


End file.
